The Coat Conflict
by The Inner Titan
Summary: What would happen when Watson finds out that Holmes accidentaly ruined one of his coats? And when he figures out it wasn't his coat in the first place? Or was it? A story where Watson loses his cool, only to leave Sherlock with the last laugh. Rated K . Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Neither I nor my friend whom helped me write this, Zaphara98, own Sherlock Holmes, or any of the characters. At least, I know I don't.**

**Also, we wrote this paragraph by paragraph. I had control over what Holmes did, Zaphara had it over Watson. So, it might be different than some fanfics! :)**

Watson dug in his closet. "Where in this world is my coat?" He mumbled. His favorite coat-a nice brown one-had been missing for four days now. Dr. Watson continued to mutter, "Let's see...I went on a dinner date...Holmes came to grab me...we pursued a criminal...there was an explosion...I found I lost my coat...I lost it in the explosion!" His head, with hair in a disarray, popped out of the closet. "Of course! I wouldn't have realized it then because it was such an intense area!" He reached for his hat and jogged out of the room. "Holmes! I'm going to get my coat!"

Holmes nodded, not looking up from his paper. "Well, good luck, Watson," He said somewhat indifferently. He waited until his friend had left, and then got up and tossed his paper aside. "Blasted coat," Holmes muttered. It seemed to be the only thing Watson thought about these days. "Why does he care about such an easily replaceable object?" He asked himself. He went to go get his pipe, when he had a sudden revelation. Say, he could have sworn he'd seen Watson's coat lying around here recently. He rushed to the room, hoping it was there. Anything to get his partner's mind back on track.

Watson stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the dark ground. "I could have sworn I lost my coat here..." He sighed. What a loss. Now he would have to spend good money on another coat. Why did he bother? With his luck Holmes would make him...Holmes! Watson whirled around and stalked down the sidewalk. Holmes would have something to answer to when he got back!

Meanwhile, Holmes flung open the door to the room where he tested and combined chemicals in his spare time, and saw the telltale crumpled shape flung over a chair. Smiling, Holmes picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. However, he did not see that the tailcoat of the jacket had dipped into a container of one of his most powerful acids. Slowly, the coat-tail began to burn off. Still not chancing to see this happen, Sherlock hung the coat up on the coat rack like nothing had happened, and sat back down to his paper.

Watson stormed into the flat he shared with Holmes. He flung open his closet door to reveal...his coat. With the tail burnt off. "HOLMES!" The doctor roared. He grabbed the jacket, stamped out the few smoldering bits, and almost flew to Holmes' room. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS COST ME?!" Watson shouted. He shook the coat in front of Holmes' paper, causing bits of thread to fall on the man's lap.

Holmes looked up, briefly surprised. "That could not have happened by my hand. And, answering your question, I can tell your coat was from Harrods, and made by Llyon and Schmidt. It was made in their factory in Ellington, England, lot no. 499653. I can also deduce it has seen more wear than the spot that you claim I made on it."

"Spot? Claim?" Watson sputtered. "The whole tail of my coat has been burned off! I 'deduce' that it was done by chemicals, because nowhere else on the coat is there any sort of burn mark! I know of only one man with chemicals this potent. His name is Sherlock. HOLMES!" He was red in the face by the time he had finished.

Holmes thought for a space. "Perhaps it might've gotten in something when I found it in that room. I apologise about the destruction of your coat, but I might suggest it might've been nigh time to... get a new one?"

"I do not need a new coat! This was a perfectly good coat until YOU RUINED IT!" Watson huffed. He crossed his arms. "I demand that you restore my coat tail!"

Holmes laughed at the preposterous suggestion. "And, how, Watson, do you suggest I do that? Think! You're a man of science as well as I am, and you should know that's very well impossible. What is your connection with that coat?" Holmes asked, getting annoyed.

Watson muttered something about a fiancee and his first gift. "None of your business. Surely you have some concoction that will restore my coat to its former glory?" He asked.

"Watson, listen to what you're saying! You make me sound very much like an alchemist! It's perfectly impossible. From the burn mark, it seems that acid was strong enough to burn through metal. You're lucky it didn't eat the whole thing." Holmes mused.

Watson dropped the coat on Holmes' lap. "If this cannot be restored, YOU will buy me a new coat."

"I happen to have one here," Holmes said, calmly pointing at a coat that could have been a carbon copy of Watson's destroyed one. "Have you very well finished?" Holmes said irritatedly, standing up and laying the ruined coat on another chair.

Watson opened and closed his mouth, at a loss. "How did..." He started, then said, "No. Nevermind. I just want my coat." He scooped up the whole coat and exited the room, snapping the door closed with a bang.

Holmes chuckled. "What if I told you that was my coat, and I knew the difference?" He called after Watson,waiting for his reaction.

Watson reopened the door but stopped short. "Of course you would know the difference. You burned mine!" He snapped. "This is now my coat."

"No I burned my coat. I just realized when you walked in that they were mixed up, and you gave me no chance to explain. So, don't you think you owe me something?" He crossed his arms, "And, if you'd like me to prove it, look at the ink stains around the cuffs of my ruined jacket. And perhaps the small bloodstain on the right side."

Watson sniffed. "I'm quite alright, thank you." He shuffled through his pockets and produced a packet of cigars. "Would you like one?" He offered.

"Thank you," Holmes said, accepting one. He struck a match to light it, and a small smile crept onto his face. It started as a half-grin, but steadily increased.

Watson glanced at Holmes. "Are you alright?" He asked. Holmes nodded, but began to chuckle. He tried to cover this, but, for once, did not manage to hide his emotions as well as he could have.

Watson raised an eyebrow. "Holmes. Are you alright?"

"Never you mind, Watson, never you mind," Holmes said, still laughing. He walked to his room and shut the door, in the. safety of which he broke down laughing. He had managed to confuse Watson twice with their identical coats. That had to count for something. He had left Watson standing in the empty room, an expression of confusion on his face. What on earth could have possibly been so funny?

_~FIN~_

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**A/N: To Zaphara: I changed a few things for the story flow. Sorry, and I'll edit them if you wish.**

** To the Reader: Thanks for reading, and please review! Also, I'm terrible at formatting paragraphs, so bear with me there. XD**


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